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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795159">Everything's Good</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorrrt/pseuds/oorrrt'>oorrrt</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ONEUS (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, M/M, Normie AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, the falling ins and outs of love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:14:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,187</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/oorrrt/pseuds/oorrrt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geonhak buys a new watch.  The strap is a soft, brown leather, the color of fallen leaves, of Seoho's eyes in sunlight.  It's just thick enough to cover the mark on his wrist, the barest peep of red peeking out underneath.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>114</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everything's Good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title and vibe insp from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xHA_UVUElAA">ilhoon - everything's good</a>. i've recommended it before but yeah i'll do it again.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>i</em>
  <em>.</em>
</p><p>There’s a knock on the door to the teacher’s lounge.  Geonhak pushes back his chair to get up, but Keonhee, already standing to grab a cup of coffee, reaches it first.</p><p>Seoho peeks in.  “Is it okay for me to be here?”</p><p>Keonhee peeks back at Geonhak, looking unsure.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s fine.”  Geonhak waves Seoho inside.  “Seoho-hyung, this is Keonhee, our newest teacher.  Keonhee, this is Seoho-hyung.  My…soulmate.”</p><p>Keonhee gasps.  “Oh my <em>gosh, </em>you never told me you had a soulmate!”  Seoho glances at Geonhak, hurt surprise flickering across his face.  “That’s incredible,” Keonhee continues, not noticing the tension.  “You’re only, what, twenty-three?  How long have you guys known?”</p><p>“Um.  Since high school.  Six years ago,” Geonhak says.</p><p>“Wow!” Keonhee exclaims, starry-eyed.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you,” Seoho says.</p><p>“It’s nice to meet you too!”  Keonhee shifts his weight between his feet for a few seconds before picking up his bag.  “I’ll be on my way then, don’t get too frisky in here!”  He practically skips out of the room.</p><p>Seoho throws a wry look at Keonhee’s retreating figure.  Once the door clicks behind him, he sits across from Geonhak, sliding a brown paper bag across the table.  “I brought you lunch.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to, but thanks.”  Inside is a small Tupperware of kimchi, strawberry milk, and an egg and cabbage sandwich.  Homemade, if the ketchup smeared on the side and the slightly burnt bread are any indication.  “Why’d you come by?”</p><p>Seoho grins, but it looks more like a grimace.  “I had today off, thought I’d come say hi.  Saw you left your lunchbox at home.”</p><p>“Thanks,” Geonhak says again.  He takes a bite of the sandwich.  It has way too much sugar sprinkled on top.  “It’s good,” he lies.</p><p>“Do you want me to wait around and drive you home?” Seoho asks, avoiding eye contact.</p><p>“It’s okay, I’ll take the bus.  You already wasted time making me food.”</p><p>Seoho cocks an eyebrow at him.  “Spending time on you isn’t a waste,” he says softly.  But he doesn’t push it the way he used to, arguing fiercely and drilling his ideas into Geonhak’s head until Geonhak agreed, or found another way to shut him up.</p><p>He stands up and leans across the table to place a small kiss on Geonhak’s forehead.  “I’ll see you tonight, then.  Good luck with the kids.  Love you.”</p><p>“Love you too.”</p><p>Once Geonhak’s alone, he rubs at the small mark on his left wrist, a silly little ice cream sandwich drawn in vibrant red.  He tries to remember how he felt when it first appeared, he and Seoho watching wide-eyed at the lines etching across their skin in tandem.</p><p>He still loves Seoho.  Seoho still loves him, he thinks.</p><p>But it’s different now.  It only makes sense that feelings fade over time, but they’re <em>soulmates.</em>  Geonhak thought soulmates would be different.</p><p>Because soulmates are rare.  Even if you’re lucky enough to come across your soulmate in your lifetime, the markings only show with time, appearing on your skin after you’ve both already fallen in love, a love blindly pieced together.  The vast majority of people spend their entire life hoping, searching, to no fruition.</p><p>Meanwhile Geonhak and Seoho: high school sweethearts.  Went to college together.  All the damn time in the world to make mistakes and reconciliations and cherish each other and live and figure out how to love.</p><p>Geonhak’s living a dream, his life written like the deepest romantic fantasies.  The poster child for why you shouldn’t give up hope.</p><p>But these days, the mark on his wrist, once warm and comforting, feels more like a brand.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>ii.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak sprints out of the building, but it’s too late.  A cold wind blows through the empty bus stop like a mockery.  Adjusting his backpack, he walks slowly back to the school entrance, counting his options.  Walking home takes two hours.  He could call his mom to pick him up, but she won’t be home for another three at the very least.  His best bet’s probably the city bus, which would come around in an hour or two.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sighing, he plops down on the wall outside the doors, pulling out his history textbook.  Might as well get a little studying in while he waits.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He’s barely flipped to the chapter he needs to read when someone barges through the doors.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak flinches at the sound.  He twists around to face some kid with bleach-blond hair and the most radiant smile Geonhak’s ever seen, though he can’t fathom what’s making the guy smile so brightly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They make eye contact.  Geonhak gives him a curt nod of acknowledgement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey!” the kid says, voice somehow even brighter than the smile.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hello,” Geonhak says politely.  He’s not sure why he’s being spoken to.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re Geonhak, right?”  The guy stretches out a hand to shake.  Geonhak takes it.  “I’m Seoho.  Lee Seoho.  Senior.”</em>
</p><p><em>Geonhak pauses mid-shake.  He doesn’t even have a second to wonder how the senior knows his name, because, Lee Seoho?  </em>Lee Seoho?  <em>Top of the senior class, number one student in the whole school Lee Seoho with his name on a plaque by the front office looks like this bright-eyed bushy-tailed squinty-smile kid?</em></p><p>
  <em>“Y-Yeah, I’m Kim Geonhak, junior,” Geonhak stutters out.  Seoho doesn’t point it out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s nice to meet you!  What are you doing outside?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak gestures towards the bus stop.  “Waiting for the bus.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho checks the time on his phone.  “The bus already left, dude.”</em>
</p><p><em>“The city</em> <em>bus,” Geonhak clarifies.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Oh.  You going somewhere far?”  Seoho leans against the wall by Geonhak’s side, too comfortable, much too friendly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No, just home.”  Geonhak wonders why the senior is asking so many questions, but he also can’t think of a reason to lie to him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho fidgets for a moment, then hops in place, clutching his backpack straps with his hands like an excited toddler.  “You want me to drive you home?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No!”  Geonhak fumbles with his book.  “I mean, it’s fine, I don’t mind waiting.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And I don’t mind taking you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I mean, we don’t really know each other, and I don’t want to burden you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho shrugs.  “I have time.  Besides, how far could you possibly live?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not far,” Geonhak admits.  It’s getting pretty damn cold outside.  “I live about ten minutes away, by the lake.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s on my way anyways!  It’s gross outside, just let me take you.  I promise I’m not creepy.”</em>
</p><p><em>“I– As long as you </em>really<em> don’t mind.  I can like, give you money for gas or something–”</em></p><p>
  <em>“It’s just a ride home, my guy, no need.”  Seoho taps Geonhak’s history book impatiently.  “Now put this away and let’s go.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I want to repay you somehow,” Geonhak insists, stuffing the book into his backpack.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho rolls his eyes.  “If that matters so much to you, just, like, buy me an ice cream from the cafeteria tomorrow.”</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>iii.</em>
</p><p>They’re back in their hometown.</p><p>Or at least, leaving it – it’s a rare three-day weekend they both had off, a perfect opportunity to visit family back home.</p><p>Seoho’s now driving them back to their apartment in the city, about three hours away without traffic.  Plenty of time for a nap (Seoho had napped on the way up), but Geonhak finds himself irritably awake, staring out the window at the blue early-evening sky.</p><p><em>“Shit,”</em> Seoho hisses.</p><p>Geonhak turns slowly to face him, not too concerned.  “What is it?”</p><p>“Nothing.  Just took the wrong exit.”</p><p>Geonhak hums in response and goes back to staring out the window.  A familiar scene looms ahead of them.  Seoho must still have some lingering muscle-memory, because he’s accidentally taken them down the mostly-empty road that leads under the old bridge.</p><p>Without really thinking about it, Geonhak rolls down the window to get a better look.  Seoho slows down.</p><p>The bridge looks more or less the same as it always has – it’s covered in graffiti that Geonhak’s never been particularly good at telling apart, but he thinks it’s a safe bet to assume some of the old pieces have been drawn over.</p><p>“I miss this,” Seoho says out of the blue, voice uncharacteristically soft.</p><p>“…yeah,” Geonhak whispers.  He feels like if he raised his voice, it would kill some sort of magic that still seeps through the air here.</p><p>Even with Seoho going way under the speed limit, they approach the end far too quickly.  Geonhak sticks his whole head out the window.</p><p>At the very edge, near the corner, their names were once scrawled into the stone with a permanent gold marker that Seoho had stolen (“borrowed,” Seoho had corrected, shit-eating grin on his face).</p><p>Geonhak’s not sure what he’s expecting.  That somehow, their names will still be there, untouched by time or weather or other people’s hands, that somehow the gold will gleam brightly enough for him to see, squinting out of a moving car.</p><p>No magic happens.  He doesn’t catch their old scribbles.  Maybe he just didn’t see them, maybe they’ve been covered.  It’s been over six years, after all.</p><p>“I miss that,” Seoho says again, a bit louder, as Geonhak rolls up his window.  “I miss feeling like that.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Like every tiny bit of life was so important.  I was ready to throw myself in front of a car for you, for us, for every moment we shared.  Over and over and over.”  Seoho makes his way back onto the highway, chuckling a little under his breath.  “Don’t get me wrong, I’d still do everything I could for you,” he adds, “but you know.  Back then, every second meant everything.”</p><p><em>I still feel like that about you,</em> Geonhak wants to say.  He’s not sure what stops him.  It’s not that it’s not true.  He <em>does</em> still love Seoho, he loves him dearly, and he thinks about him all the time, but it’s just…different.  There’s no other way he can think to put it.</p><p>He’s afraid of how Seoho might respond.  Of how Seoho might not respond.</p><p>Geonhak clicks on the radio when the silence in the car gets suffocating.</p><p>
  <em>–the movie has gotten favorable reviews overall, but some viewers have lamented that the protagonist didn’t end up together with the romantic lead.  Though the movie does not say it outright, common consensus amongst the audience is that they were meant to be soulmates–</em>
</p><p>He clicks it back off.</p><p>It feels like every mainstream movie, any piece of media really, ends up about soulmates.  Obsessed with the discovery, the falling, the love.  Countless films and books all dedicated to a life most people will never experience.</p><p>But what happens when you do?  If you go through it all too soon?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>iv.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you know about the old bridge?” Seoho asks Geonhak one day.  The world is finally thawing into spring, a bit later than usual this year.</em>
</p><p><em>Seoho has taken to driving Geonhak home after school, since he’s on the way.  Geonhak buys him ice cream every few days as thanks, which, according to Seoho, is the </em>only<em> reason he does it.</em></p><p>
  <em>“The one with all the graffiti?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho nods, slowing at a stop sign.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve driven past it once, I think, when I took a wrong turn.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You busy right now?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak shakes his head, belatedly murmuring a no when he remembers Seoho should keep his eyes on the road.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho doesn’t respond, but he swerves aggressively into the bigger road, handing Geonhak the aux cord with a grin on his face.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak throws on his recently played music.  The rough beat of some new hip-hop release fills the car.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hm,” Seoho says.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hm?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s kinda… meh,” Seoho complains.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You gave me the aux!” Geonhak says, whiny tone creeping into his voice.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, you chose poorly.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not good under pressure!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oooookay,” Seoho says, glancing over at Geonhak with a stupid expression.  He doesn’t make him change the music though, bobbing his head along with the so-called ‘meh’ song.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho parks the car in a patch of dead grass just off the road.  Geonhak’s worried it’s technically illegal or something, but the elder assures him it’s fine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The bridge looks a lot bigger on foot.  They walk slowly through the underside, admiring some of the more complex art people have left on the concrete over the years.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Well, Geonhak walks slowly admiring the art.  Seoho bounds forward and retraces his steps back, over and over like a wind-up toy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re giving me a headache,” Geonhak complains.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well you’re putting me to sleep,” Seoho shoots back.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Then sleep, dickhead.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho stops twirling and plants his feet down.  “I’m going to abandon you here,” he threatens, but the intensity is ruined by his smile.  “Did you know this place is haunted?  See how no one is coming this way?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak rolls his eyes.  “No one’s coming this way because there’s nothing at the end of this road except for like.  Two houses and a swamp.”</em>
</p><p><em>“And?  What if </em>they’re<em> what’s haunted?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Ah, yes,” Geonhak says drily.  “A haunted swamp.  Begone, nightmares.  Preemptively.”</em>
</p><p><em>“A haunted swamp would be </em>so<em> cool,” Seoho says in awe, eyes sparkling.  He seems to have lost interest in their banter already, so enamored with the idea of swamp ghosts.  “Imagine you walk up to a swamp and it looks like it’s smoking, but it’s just the clouds of loads of frog spirits.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“Do frogs have spirits?  Do frogs even live in swamps?” Geonhak asks.</em>
</p><p><em>“Of course they have spirits,” Seoho answers huffily.  “And they live in </em>my<em> swamps.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Soon, they’ve reached the end of the tunnel.  The graffiti here is small and poorly done, mostly simple etches of names and dates.  Like there’s a hierarchy – if you suck, you don’t get to decorate the huge cement slabs in the middle.  Just a name scribbled at the edge.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s cool that the edges have such a different character than the middle,” Seoho says, as if he’s riding along with Geonhak’s thoughts.  “It’s like, the edges are people and their stories, and as you get deeper into the middle, those stories evolve and become their own entities."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re trying too hard to be deep,” Geonhak deadpans, but he can see it.  The way a piece of yourself left behind could grow into its own being.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Here,” Seoho says, pointedly ignoring his comment.  He hands him a golden marker, one of those permanent paint pens you need to shake to get the ink running.  “We should sign somewhere.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak hands the pen back.  “You first.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho shrugs and leans over, easily scrawling a giant signature over some fading marks in the stone.  It’s just his name.  Seo Ho.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>So Geonhak follows suit, writes out a big Geon Hak to match.  The marker glides surprisingly smoothly against the rough surface, the pearlescence of the paint glimmering frantically before it dries.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Where’d you get this?” he asks, handing the pen over again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Borrowed it.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“From?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My physics teacher’s desk.”  Seoho stares at their names with his lips pursed before adding a small star to the left of their markings.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You shouldn’t steal things,” Geonhak chastises.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Borrowed,” Seoho corrects.  “I’ll give it back.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What’s the star for?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m going to mark every time we come here.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who says I’m coming back with you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You don’t want to?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak makes a slow revolution, looking at the tags people have spray painted so high he doesn’t know how anyone got up there, at the way the bridge is so big the underside looks like a small tunnel, at how empty it is, how quiet.  He glances at his friend, standing there like a music-box ballerina that’s broken free.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I want to,” he admits.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>v.</em>
</p><p>Geonhak, lesson plans for the week finished and nothing better to do, joins Seoho on the couch.  He’s halfheartedly watching some music program, scrolling through twitter on the side.</p><p>The commercial break ends.  The TV cuts to a dark stage, bass rumbling ominously before a singular spotlight shines on the performer.</p><p>It’s Youngjo.</p><p>Geonhak flinches in shock.  Seoho looks up from his phone, stares back and forth between Geonhak and the TV.</p><p>Geonhak puts a finger to his lips.  “I’ll explain in a moment.  I want to watch this.”</p><p>Seoho raises an eyebrow but stays quiet, listens to the song with him.</p><p>It’s a good song, though not really what Geonhak listens to much these days.  He’d probably have loved it back in high school, the thrumming bassline and aggressive percussion, rap seamlessly blending with the electronic sounds.</p><p>Youngjo looks good.  He’s in a trendy all-black outfit, throwing glances at the camera like he’s about to devour it.  He’s confident.  He always has been, but the confidence is now backed with charisma to match.</p><p>The song comes to an end.  Before the camera cuts away, Geonhak sees Youngjo make eye contact with the cheering crowd, his death-glare softening into a warm smile, giving small waves in every direction.</p><p>He looks happy.</p><p>Seoho clears his throat.  “You like Ravn?”</p><p>“What’s Ravn?” Geonhak asks with a frown.</p><p>“You don’t know him?  This song has been on the radio constantly since it came out last week.”</p><p>“You know I don’t listen to the radio.”  Geonhak points at the screen, which is now displaying some girl group he’s never seen before.  “That was Ravn?”</p><p>“Yeah.  Did you like it?”</p><p>“It was pretty good.”  Ravn.  Ravn.  Geonhak rolls the unfamiliar name around on his tongue.  “I knew him in middle school,” he says, hoping it sounds like an offhanded remark.</p><p>Seoho puts his phone down on the side table, suddenly much more interested.  “You know Ravn?”</p><p>Geonhak feels a little uncomfortable, though he can’t figure out why.  “I <em>knew</em> him,” he responds anyways.  “Kim Youngjo.  We used to be friends before I moved here, from middle school to early high school.”</p><p>“That’s neat.  What’s he like?”</p><p>“Sappy.  Righteous.”</p><p>“Two-hit-K.O.,” Seoho jokes lamely.</p><p>“He wanted me to stay, to pursue music with him,” Geonhak says.  Since he’s started sharing, he can’t find it in himself to stop.</p><p>“Why didn’t you?” Seoho asks.</p><p>“I was scared.  I never knew what I wanted to do, and I was afraid of slipping out of normal life.  And I could never match his conviction.  He was always so passionate about everything, like his life depended on it.”  Geonhak scratches his head.  “Kind of like you.”</p><p>“Like me.”</p><p>“He never bought into the soulmate stuff.  Or he did, but… unconventionally?  He always told me that music was his true soulmate.  He was convinced soulmates weren’t just markings between two people in love.  He’d always be talking about how people needed to stop being so old-fashioned and obsessed with that narrow idea.”</p><p>Seoho chews on his lip.  “What did you say to that?”</p><p>“I told him I believed him.  But I wanted to fall in love.”</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>vi.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Geonhak, look at this.”  Seoho taps a colorful poster taped to a pole by his side.  The two of them are stopped at a traffic light, walking to the downtown library.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak’s seen the poster before.  Or something very similar.  They’re everywhere; advertisements for products or services or events that’ll somehow increase your chances of finding your soulmate.  This particular one is for a psychic reading that divines your future relationships, teaching you where and when to pay attention, so you’ll be able to figure out who your soulmate is before the markings show.  Supposedly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What, you want to go?” Geonhak asks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho looks scandalized.  “No!  I just think it’s funny, don’t you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak shrugs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re saying you think this stuff works?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Not necessarily.”  The light turns green.  They step off the curb in sync.  “I just, if people think this kind of stuff really helps them find their soulmate, maybe it does?  In like, a self-fulfilling prophecy kind of way.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho doesn’t respond.  They walk in silence for a few minutes, and it’s a bit strange, not even hearing him humming under his breath.  The day is balmy.  Geonhak wipes some sweat off his nose.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s not until they’re inside, claiming the best group-study room, that Seoho finally speaks up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you believe in soulmates?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak wrinkles his brow.  “Well, yeah?”  He throws his backpack onto the table and starts laying his things out.  “Of course I believe in soulmates.  You’ve seen them, right?  The markings.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho crosses his arms.  “Only once.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’ve only seen it once in person, too.  But there have been so many studies, so much research.  And soulmates are all over the media.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, but what if they’re faking it?”  Seoho leans over to take Geonhak’s red pen and mimes scribbling something onto his wrist.  “It can’t be that hard to draw a little mark on your skin.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak snatches his pen back.  “For such a bright person, that’s a surprisingly dark way of thinking about the world.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is it, though?”  Seoho props his chin up with his hand, resting his elbow on the table.  “Soulmates don’t make the world bright.  Soulmates aren’t essential to existence at all, actually.  Most people never find their soulmate, that doesn’t mean most people aren’t doing fine.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“But finding your soulmate is something everyone considers so important,” Geonhak presses.  “It’s essential because it’s what we all strive for.”</em>
</p><p><em>“Maybe striving for it is what’s keeping people from being happy.  If we aren’t always blindly wishing for something nearly impossible to have, maybe we’d be happier.”  Seoho jerks up, eyes glittering.  “Maybe if we hopped off the dumb soulmate stuff, we’d start recognizing how essential our other relationships are.  How </em>lovely<em> everything else can be.”</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>vii.</em>
</p><p>The restaurant is fancier than Geonhak’s used to.  They can definitely afford an occasional night out now, but Geonhak can’t help but recall when they were younger, and he’d save up tips from whatever job he was working at the time just so they could go to a sit-down place and he could offer to pay for both of them.  Or when Seoho would buy takeout and a dollar-store candle and they’d set up his living room with a stolen tablecloth from some university event and pretend it was the definition of romance.</p><p>Maybe it was.  Maybe Geonhak’s thinking about it since they don’t really do <em>dates</em> anymore.</p><p>“We haven’t been on a proper date in a while,” Seoho says, as if he read Geonhak’s mind.</p><p>Maybe he did.  The more time passes, the less Geonhak understands the concept of soulmates.</p><p>“Yeah.  We should do it more often.”</p><p>Seoho grins, lopsided.  “C’mon, you don’t have to be so insincere.”</p><p>Geonhak tries not to bristle.  It’s a harmless comment, perfectly in line with his usual teasing, but it feels a little too genuine today.</p><p>The rest of the night passes unremarkably.  It’s even getting a little pleasant, the two of them lightly tipsy on wine (<em>like some suburban moms,</em> Geonhak points out, eliciting a small giggle out of the elder).</p><p>Until Seoho pauses, the laughter seeping out of his body in record time.  He gulps down the last bit of wine in his glass and sets it down, looking at Geonhak’s hands.</p><p>“How’s pharm school?” Geonhak asks, when the other stays quiet for too long.</p><p>Seoho sighs.  “It’s fine, it’s the same as it usually is.  There are exams constantly and everyone’s doing cocaine.”</p><p>Geonhak’s eyebrows shoot up.  “Are <em>you</em>?”</p><p>“No.  Should I?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Seoho shrugs, deflating even further.  “I’m not gonna do cocaine, don’t worry.  But…”  He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, a nervous habit Geonhak hasn’t seen in quite some time.</p><p>“But what?” he presses, as gently as possible.</p><p>“I just… maybe it’s catching on.  Not the cocaine habits!  But the general <em>ennui</em> of it all?”  Seoho’s eyes are trained on his empty wine glass.  “I don’t know.  I’m just thinking, maybe this isn’t the right path for me after all.”</p><p>Geonhak hands are tight against the napkin in his lap.  “It’s common to think that,” he tries to reason, “there are lots of people that feel like they’re stuck, or that they’re not good enough, or whatever.  But you’re so smart!  You always have been, and I’m sure you’ll get through it–”</p><p>“No, no, that’s not it,” Seoho interrupts.  “I’m doing fine in school.  It’s just that… I don’t know if I feel fulfilled by it anymore.  I’m bored, dude.  I’m tired.  I don’t know.”</p><p>The whiteness of Geonhak’s knuckles rivals the napkin.  He stays quiet, not knowing how to answer.</p><p>“I’m tired of being here.  What if I go try out like, I don’t know, being a stunt double or something?  I could probably do that, right?”</p><p>He’s tired of being here.  <em>Tired of being with me,</em> Geonhak’s brain supplies.  “You’d probably be good at it, you’re good at everything,” he says instead to fill the silence.</p><p>Seoho huffs out a tiny, false laugh.  “Obviously I’m not gonna up and go overnight.  But I just wanted to talk to you, I guess.  I’m itching to… move on.”  He scratches his nose.  “From this place, from my career path,” he adds on, words jumping too quickly out of his mouth.</p><p>Seoho wants to leave.  Geonhak should have expected it, in all honesty.  Seoho always wants to be on his way, discovering something new, finding himself in unfamiliarity.  But they’re adults now, and Seoho’s doing well in school, and he already has a decent job at a nearby pharmacy, and Geonhak is teaching at a fantastic school, and he loves his children, and was it too much of him to hope that they could settle?  That they could just be?</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>viii.</em>
</p><p><em>Late-summer night sky stretches above Geonhak, warm and absolute and infinite.  Seoho was right to drag him outside, saying </em>things are too suffocating at home, let’s just get out for the night.<em>  Geonhak won’t admit it, of course.  But it’s hard to pretend he’s not enjoying himself.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Let’s play two truths and a lie,” Seoho suggests, lying back against the scratchy grass.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What are we, teenage girls?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Kinda unfair that teenage girls get to have all the fun then, huh?”  Seoho plucks a blade of grass off the hill and chucks it at Geonhak’s face.  It falls mere centimeters from his fingers, twirling uselessly onto the ground.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak snorts.  “What does the winner get?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Eh, back massage?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fine.  But you go first.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright, listen closely.”  Seoho closes his eyes.  “One, I’m shy when I meet new people.  Two, when I was younger I was absolutely convinced that dragons were real.  And three, I got my first university acceptance today,” Seoho fires off rapidly, counting to three on his fingers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did you prepare this?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Of course not,” Seoho says, grinning.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak rolls his eyes.  “This is too easy,” he says.  “The lie is the first one.  You’re not shy.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wrong!”  Seoho cackles gleefully.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re lying.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nope!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak sits up straighter to loom over Seoho’s reclined figure.  “You’re not shy,” he repeats, pointing an accusatory finger at Seoho’s stomach.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho jerks up, nearly colliding his head into Geonhak’s.  “You don’t get to tell me what I am and what I am not.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I remember when we met!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That’s really sweet of you,” Seoho says, blinking innocently.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak elbows him.  “Stop trying to trick me.”</em>
</p><p><em>“I’m not,” Seoho insists.  “I </em>am<em> shy.  I don’t like introducing myself to new people very much.  It took a lot of effort for me to approach you.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Geonhak doesn’t entirely believe him, but he lets it slide.  “What’s the lie then?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Growing up, I thought dragons sucked.  I told everyone it was impractical for them to get so large unless they all existed before ancient times, and if they existed before humans then they were no more interesting than dinosaurs.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak chuckles.  “Figures you were a little shit as a child.  Guess some people never grow out of it.”  He pats out a wrinkle in Seoho’s sleeve.  “Oh shit, wait, congrats?  What?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho laughs quietly.  “Thanks.  It’s not my top school or anything, but it feels nice to know I have somewhere I can go.”  His gaze flickers back and forth between Geonhak’s features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak can feel his heartbeat in his knees.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, an acceptance is an acceptance, right?”  He tries not to let his voice waver, but he’s not sure he’s succeeding.  “I knew you could do it, and I know you’ll get more soon.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho raises a hesitant hand to adjust Geonhak’s bangs.  Then he throws himself back down into the grass.  The thump jolts Geonhak back to the present.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Your turn,” Seoho says, voice a little muffled from where he’s pulled up his shirt collar.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh yeah.”  Geonhak taps his toes against the dirt.  “Um, my favorite drinks are strawberry flavored.”  Not that interesting, but hopefully something Seoho doesn’t know about him yet.  Now a lie.  All that crosses his mind is the kid in calculus whose phone went off in class today, anime opening ringtone loudly echoing in the silent room.  “Uh, I speak Japanese pretty well because my uncle is fluent,” he lies.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho wiggles on the ground.  “Last one,” he sing-songs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Last one.  This shouldn’t be hard; all he needs to do is think of any fact about himself.  Literally anything.</em>
</p><p>I’m afraid of what happens when you leave,<em> he wants to say.  There are four whole months left, but time is always slipping out of your grasp the fastest when you’re afraid to let go.  There are only four months left.</em></p><p>
  <em>Something gently pokes his thigh when he shifts his legs.  Oh.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I have a pack of sour gummy worms in my pocket,” he says.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Gummy worms!” Seoho yells, pumping a fist into the air.  “You don’t have any gummy worms.  That would be too cool of you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak feels a stupid wave of satisfaction in imitating a noisy buzzer.  “Wrong,” he says, holding his chin high.  “I suck at Japanese.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Damn,” Seoho says wistfully, “no back massage.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak pries out the bag of candy, a little warm from being in his pants for the whole day.  “I have gummy worms, though.  We both win.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We both win,” Seoho repeats after him, sounding a little sleepy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak lays down beside Seoho, ripping open the bag.  He picks out the tastiest worm (red-blue) and dangles it in front of Seoho’s mouth, laughing and pulling away when the elder tries to bite it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>One inspired lunge later, Seoho’s chomping away happily on his worm and Geonhak’s rubbing the spit off his fingers with a grimace.  He cards his fingers through the grass, pleasantly cool against his skin, absentmindedly hoping he doesn’t crush some random bug in the wrong place at the wrong time.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The wrong place at the wrong time.  What an awful concept, like fate throwing you under a bus.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho always talks about how fate is stupid.  How people need to push through it and make their lives wonderful – by force if necessary.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak takes a deep breath and scoots a little closer to Seoho, places his hand on top of the other’s.  Seoho’s hand is warm, a little sticky.  Geonhak can’t complain; his own fingers are probably coated in candy powder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho breathes deeply, his chest expanding and deflating so slowly it’s nearly imperceptible.  For a moment Geonhak wonders if he’s fallen asleep.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not asleep,” Seoho whispers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Cool,” Geonhak responds, feeling dumb.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho intertwines his fingers with Geonhak’s, gives his hand a squeeze, sweat and sugar and all.  “This is nice,” he says simply.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>ix.</em>
</p><p>Geonhak buys a new watch.  The strap is a soft, brown leather, the color of fallen leaves, of Seoho’s eyes in sunlight.  It’s just thick enough to cover the mark on his wrist, the barest peep of red peeking out underneath.</p><p>He wears it every day.  If anyone notices, no one says anything.  A part of him feels guilty, hiding what should be his greatest blessing, but he hasn’t missed the way Seoho has taken to pulling his sleeves down to his palms, tightly clutching the fabric in his fingers like it’s already a habit.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>x.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak trots behind Seoho, who’s going annoyingly slowly through the frozen aisle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hyung,” he mutters, “can you go any faster?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nothing but the best vegetables for my mother,” Seoho says without turning around.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re looking at frozen meats,” Geonhak points out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Nothing but the best frozen meats for my mother.”  Seoho pulls out his grocery list, scribbled onto a tiny scrap of paper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak peers over his shoulder to read it.  “You already got everything.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah.”  Seoho stuffs the list back into his pocket, resting his hands on the cart handle.  One of the cart wheels is wonky, squeaking and rotating on its own.  He kicks at it a little too aggressively.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak gently shoos Seoho over, taking the cart.  “Is something wrong?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“No.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You seem tense.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho sighs.  “I’m just tired.  It’s not a big deal.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’re leaving for college in four days.  It makes sense if you’re upset,” Geonhak reasons.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not upset.”  Seoho moves Geonhak back aside and pushes the cart into the next aisle.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak follows slowly, watching as Seoho kicks the wheel again.  Halfway down the frozen desserts, he comes to a stop, sighing deeply.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s gonna be weird without you,” Seoho admits.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Stop being sentimental,” Geonhak says, “you were doing perfectly fine before we met.”</em>
</p><p><em>Seoho rolls his eyes.  “Fine then, I think it’ll be weird for </em>you<em> to not have </em>me<em>.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Geonhak sticks his tongue out at Seoho.  A habit he picked up from the other, ironically.  “I’ll be fine.  We’ll both be fine.  Phones exist.  God forbid, we could even video chat.  Unless you’re too old to know–”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho shoves him into the freezer door, but he’s smiling now.  Some mother with her kid gives him a dirty look, but Geonhak ignores it in favor of grinning back at his best friend.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh!” Seoho exclaims, entire face lighting up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What?”  Geonhak checks to make sure the door he was just slammed into is intact.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Look!”  Seoho points at something in the freezer.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s a box of ice cream sandwiches, neapolitan with chocolate biscuits.  “What about them?  You want to grab some?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s the same kind they had at school last year,” Seoho says.  “I always made you buy them for me.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak opens the freezer and grabs a box.  “You didn’t force me to buy them for you, I was trying to pay you back for gas.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You were on my way, stupid.  I was conning you.  I was taking advantage of a silly, naïve little junior.”  Seoho reaches over to grab the box from Geonhak but flinches as his hand makes contact.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>At that same moment, Geonhak’s wrist prickles sharply.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>They drop the box of ice cream.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fuck,” Seoho says.  The mom from earlier ushers her kid away.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak doesn’t realize what’s happening until a split second later, as he looks down at his wrist and sees movement.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Red lines, etching their way across his skin like magic.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you shitting me,” Seoho hisses, eyes wide.  “An ice cream sandwich.  It’s a fucking ice cream sandwich.”  He begins to cackle, peals of laughter growing louder and wheezier until he’s doubled over, leaning against the cart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak on the other hand is frozen, looking at the mark.  It really is a tiny ice cream sandwich, stamped onto his left wrist, just below his palm.  His heart is hammering wildly in his chest.  Strangely in time with Seoho’s ringing laughter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh my god,” Seoho says from the ground.  “Oh my god.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh my god,” Geonhak repeats.  He can’t form any other words.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho gets his bearings before Geonhak, picking up the box of ice cream sandwiches and throwing it into the cart.  He taps his chin for a second before grabbing a second box.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“We can eat these tonight,” he says, “we’ll just gorge ourselves on ice cream sandwiches before I leave.  Maybe we’ll get sick, but whatever!  Ice cream!  I can’t believe it’s ice cream, my god, we’re so stupid.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak finally tears his gaze off his wrist and lets his arm slowly fall back to his side.  He looks at Seoho in all his brightness under the fluorescents of the grocery store, how me manages to glow in any damn place.  He looks at Seoho’s wrist, at the identical little ice cream sandwich.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Horror starts to unfold in his stomach.  What if this is fake?  What if this is wrong?  What if Seoho doesn’t want this?  What if–</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho reaches forward and clasps his hands over Geonhak’s cheeks.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Geonhak,” he whispers, lifting Geonhak’s face to force him to look into his eyes.  The panic begins to recede.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah?” Geonhak says, even quieter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho smiles.  Seoho’s always smiling so beautifully.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You always smile so nice,” Geonhak feels compelled to stutter out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Seoho smiles even more brightly.  He tilts his chin up to place a tiny kiss on Geonhak’s forehead.  “I love you,” he says.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love you,” he repeats.  “Everything’s okay.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Geonhak reaches up to pull Seoho’s hands away from his face, instead winding their fingers together.  The ice cream sandwiches seem to shine on their skin, so close to each other.  He takes a deep breath.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I love you.”  Everything’s good.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>technically it's a fluffy high school au if you only read the even numbered sections :)</p><p><a href="http://twitter.com/keonfeet">twt</a> | <a href="http://curiouscat.me/oorrrt">cc</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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